


And we shall rise, once more

by zeest



Category: Samurai Warriors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeest/pseuds/zeest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Western Army was defeated at Sekigahara, Yukimura was exiled to Kudoyama where he later slipped out to join the Toyotomi forces at Osaka Castle. Set sometime between the Ueda Castle and Osaka Castle stages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And we shall rise, once more

_To my dear friend Lord Kanetsugu,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well and that you and your family have settled in at Yonezawa._

 _Life at Kudoyama is very tranquil. The village here is small and it is said that only those who seek peace and quiet choose to stay here. However, the people are friendly and I have been making acquaintances with some of the other villagers. I have also started learning renga since it is a popular pastime here. I am not very good at it, I often take a long time to compose a poem that links properly when it is my turn. The others say that it is because I started learning late. I am not so sure but nevertheless, I enjoy it and it is a pleasant way to pass the time._

 _I still train every day. Sometimes, the others would ask me, “What’s the point in training? The land is peaceful now.” I do not know how to answer them. Indeed, they are correct; I will not be fighting on a battlefield anymore. However, Lord Shingen once told me that training does not only strengthen the body, it also strengthens the spirit and the mind._

 _News from the outside comes rarely and I wonder how our friends are faring. Have you any word of Keiji? I have not received any news from him but I hope he is well..._

***

A loud “Hey, Yukimura~” was all the warning Yukimura received before a giant pike descended on him from seemingly out of nowhere. He immediately brought his practice spear up to block, shifting his weight back for more stability. The pike slammed down hard a split second later, and his spear cracked and splintered under the heavy weight.

“Oops,” Keiji said from the other end of the pike, an unrepentant grin on his face and a travelling pack still slung over his shoulder. He shrugged and swung the pike back onto his shoulder. “Your reflexes have gotten slow, Yukimura.”

Yukimura stood there speechless for a while before his mind registered that it was indeed Keiji standing before him, a bright splash of colour against the brown dirt of the practice ground. “Keiji! What are you doing here?”

“I got bored at Kanetsugu’s place. Got on the road, started picking fights and then I heard you were in town.” Keiji walked off to the side and slung his pack down, carefully putting his pike down beside it before grabbing two practice spears from the weapons rack. “I thought I’ll come and try my luck.”

He threw one of the spears to Yukimura who caught it neatly, his arm automatically reaching up in a move that was once so familiar to him. Surprise gave way to anticipation, and for the first time in months, he felt eagerness and excitement well up inside him. He gripped the spear securely. “It has been a long time, Keiji. Let’s have a good fight.”

The first few strikes made him painfully aware of how much his skills had deteriorated, without a purpose or a good sparring partner to train with. Straw targets were no substitute for a real, moving opponent and no one in the village had showed any interest in training with him. Yukimura had not realised how much he had missed this feeling.

He concentrated on blocking and finding the pattern to Keiji’s attacks, which, for all that they appeared random, he knew from experience there was one. He kept his movements minimal, grounding himself for more stability against Keiji’s sturdier build and using the range of his spear to create openings.

“Heh,” Keiji smirked as he whirled, sidestepping Yukimura’s attack and then let the momentum carry him on, bringing his spear round a full circle until it clashed against Yukimura’s.

“Ieyasu will be attacking Osaka Castle this winter,” he said, so softly that Yukimura barely caught the words.

“What-”

“Focus, Yukimura!” Keiji began attacking rapidly, his spear visible as mere flashes right and left as he used his heavier weight to press in, forcing Yukimura back. He wielded the spear like a pike, all wide arcs and slashes, using his own strength to make up for the lack of blunt, destructive power in the wooden practice spear. Neither of them was aiming for a blow that would end the match and they soon fell into a rhythm, their attacks and parries so smooth and quick it was like a dance.

“Then, the Toyotomi-“

“Are like mice trapped in a cage,” Keiji said matter-of-factly, swinging his spear around in a wide arc, cutting off Yukimura’s attacks and clearing a wide space in front of him. “No one in their right mind would side with them now.”

For a short while, neither of them moved. Yukimura gripped his spear a little tighter. “What of Lord Kanetsugu?”

“He’s doing fine,” Keiji replied loudly and it was only then that Yukimura realised that their match had attracted some spectators, some of the servants and the residents of the house bordering the practice ground. “No longer the foolhardy idiot with dreams bigger than his helmet,” Keiji continued, “He has decided that the honourable path for him is to protect the peace and to believe in the future.”

Yukimura’s heart sank as he realised the implication of Keiji’s words but before he could dwell on it any longer, Keiji was moving again, his spear a blur as he swiped it up. A straightforward attack and Yukimura deflected it easily, knocking it aside. He felt more alive than he had in months, instinct and years of battlefield experience coming to the fore after the long period of inactivity. He shifted his grip up the length of the spear, shortening his range and lunged forward, closing the distance so that the longer range of Keiji’s spear was useless. The tip of his spear swiped dangerously close to Keiji’s face but Keiji dodged neatly to the side, pulling his spear back so that it hit against Yukimura’s in a deadlock.

“And what about you, Keiji?” Yukimura asked, his breath quick but steady. “Which path have you chosen?”

“Oh, you know me.” Keiji laughed and twisted his hand, forcing Yukimura’s spear down and bringing them close enough that Yukimura could see his teeth when he grinned. “I never change.”

 

It was rare that they had visitors in their isolated village and when Yukimura invited several other residents to dinner that night, it was already a feast to be remembered for months. Keiji regaled everyone with tales of his wanderings around the country, the stories growing more and more outrageous as the night grew later and the wine flasks emptier. There was no talk of battles, of loyalties or of betrayals, and Keiji only nodded along whenever someone mentioned how nice it was that the land was finally at peace.

“Maeda Keiji is a one night special,” he said with a grin as one of the guests invited him to their residence the next day. There were murmurs of disappointment, and Yukimura, in a rare fit of peevishness, wanted to say that any of them could go out and see for themselves all the wonderful things Keiji had spoken of if they wished to. Then, someone called for another round of wine and Keiji began telling another story, using an empty flask, his chopsticks and someone’s arm as props, and the moment passed.

 

The sky was still dark the next morning when Yukimura threaded his way to Keiji’s room, with only a single candle to light the way. But the room was lit and the _shoji_ doors open despite the chilly air at that early hour and Yukimura entered to see Keiji already securing his travelling pack.

“Are you really leaving so soon?”

“Yeah,” Keiji replied without turning. “Sorry, but this place is really dull. I don’t know how you can stay here without going crazy!”

“It’s not so bad,” Yukimura said, but his voice was uncertain. “It’s peaceful.”

Keiji snorted. “I always knew you were not quite right in the head.”

Yukimura chuckled, then sobered. “Does Ieyasu really intend to wipe out the Toyotomi? They can’t do him any harm now.”

“There’s power in a name,” Keiji said, turning at last to look at Yukimura. “As long as the name remains, there are people who will remember and speak of it. History, as they say, is written by the victors. Which side do you think are the rebels now?”

“But the other Toyotomi retainers, surely there are some who remain loyal? Those who had fought alongside Lord Mitsunari-“

“All dead, demoted, exiled or converted,” Keiji said bluntly. “The Toyotomi boy and the few men he still has are trapped in the castle. Last I heard, they have resorted to buying soldiers with gold, emptying their treasury to recruit _ronin_ , and to buy weapons and supplies. But you have to be pretty desperate to do business with them now.”

“I should go,” Yukimura said, his voice fraught with worry. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My family- I can’t betray my brother, not after all he has done for me. I don’t want to fight against him, or against Lord Kanetsugu.”

“This is your life, Yukimura. Not the Takeda’s, not the Toyotomi’s or the Tokugawa’s. Yours. Just look at me,” Keiji laughed, throwing his arm out wide. “Free to go wherever I want to, free to do whatever I wish to. Hey, why should you stay here even if you don’t want to go to Osaka? Come with me, there are lots of things to see out there that I bet you’ve never even heard of.”

”I cannot leave this place,” Yukimura said softly, regret weighing heavy on his words. “I am not like you, Keiji,”

Keiji looked thoughtfully at Yukimura for a few seconds, then turned to his pack and started digging through it. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

“What-”

“Just close your eyes, Yukimura.”

Yukimura complied and soon, the rustling sound stopped and there was silence. Then the air shifted and Yukimura could sense Keiji’s presence close to him, close enough that he could feel Keiji’s warm exhalations, almost unbearably close. He leaned back unconsciously until Keiji whispered “Don’t move”. There was a slight pressure on his left eyelid, Keiji’s finger, Yukimura guessed, pressing down lightly on his eye before moving slowly outwards, gradually lifting until the touch was feather-light when it reached the outer edge of his eye. The pressure lifted and then was back again, this time on his right eyelid, the same sweeping motion from end to end.

“Alright,” Keiji said, satisfaction in his voice. “You can open your eyes now.”

Yukimura opened his eyes to see a reflection of himself in a small mirror of polished metal that Keiji was holding up in front of him. His eyes stood out even in the flickering candlelight, a line of red visible above both eyes, stretching from inside to the outer edge where the brush of colour swept up like wings.

“What do you think?” Keiji crowed in delight. “Now you look like me!”

“Keiji!” Yukimura stared at the mirror in disbelief, squinting and closing each eye in turn to assess the full extent of the damage, and then rubbing at the red stains with his hands.

“Hey, don’t do that. You’ll get it all over your face and it won’t come off easily,” Keiji said, admiring his own work. “This is good quality stuff.”

Yukimura frowned unhappily at him. “This doesn’t make me you, Keiji.”

“Well, of course not.” Keiji folded his arms and looked at Yukimura thoughtfully. “Your hair’s a little short but I’m sure we can do something about that.”

“Keiji!” Yukimura sighed and gave it up as a lost cause. He took the mirror from Keiji and gazed into it, all his years reflected in the smooth, polished surface. A reminder of whom and where he was, and all the choices he had made and ties he had forged, for better or worse.

Outside, the trees rustled in the wind, the leaves clinging on and then falling loose, swirling down to join the carpet of red and gold on the ground in one final burst of colour before the seasons change.

“I need to go,” Yukimura said softly. “I cannot just stand by and watch the Toyotomi fall.”

Yukimura barely saw Keiji move before he felt something thin and hard against his neck. He clamped down on the instinct to strike back, holding his position even as Keiji held his, so close that Yukimura was forced to look up to meet his eyes. His breath came involuntarily sharp at the cold expression on Keiji’s face, all signs of frivolity gone. Shadows danced across the wall and their faces as the wind teased the candle flames.

“If I were a Tokugawa man, those words would have sealed your fate,” Keiji said dispassionately.

Yukimura held Keiji’s gaze. “But you are not,” he said levelly.

Keiji’s face split into a broad grin. “True words! I am no one’s man.” He pulled back and Yukimura could see now that it was a small folding fan that Keiji had held against his neck. “But what I said still holds, it’s only the person striking the blow that has changed.” Keiji flipped the fan over and pointed it right at Yukimura. “This is not so much a battle as a closing act.”

“That is not certain,” Yukimura said, “And even if it is, it is my wish to see it to the end.”

Keiji sighed and knocked Yukimura lightly on the head with the fan. “You’re still too serious for your own good. I’ve half a mind to knock you out and stow you in my pack.”

Yukimura smiled and handed the mirror he was still holding back to Keiji. “Are you not going to Osaka Castle?”

Keiji’s busied himself with stowing his belongings back into his pack. “This is not my fight,” Keiji said eventually. “I am going to Kyoto.”

“Then why are you telling me all this?”

“Because this is a choice you have to make yourself,” Keiji said simply, tying one last knot before slinging the pack over his shoulder. “After all these years, you deserve the chance,” He clasped Yukimura briefly on the shoulder, his grip as warm and strong as the time he had rescued Yukimura from certain death so many years ago.

“Time to go. Goodbye, Yukimura.”

And then, like the morning mist, he was gone with the sunrise.


End file.
